Feeling ready, I gave the okay to Zachariah and he began to slowly, and lovingly, move out, then back in, slowly letting me get used to the fullness of him.
As one hand held my hip tightly, his other hand went to my clit.
“You are mine,” he grunted out, his breath warm against my back.
“Yours,” I panted, never fighting against that statement.
“I could get use to this,” Zachariah panted out, increasing his pace. I panted along with him as he kneeled behind me, his front to my back with no space between us. “I’m not going to last much longer.”
“So close,” I managed to moan out, trying to push back at him, seeking something more to push me over the edge.
The hand on my hip left, going to my hair and pulling slightly. I lifted my head, following his lead as he took what he wanted from me. I would never let him do this if I hadn’t wanted it, and that was even better.
Zachariah pinched my clit as he pushed harder into me, and I came. His cocked hit something deep inside me, and I saw bright stars in my vision. Zachariah pumped once, then twice more before stilling and emptying everything he had into the condom. Apparently, we were both in need of a quick release.
“We are so gonna have to do that again,” Zachariah panted out after pulling out of me. I collapsed onto the bed, spent and sedated with a smile on my face.
Zachariah left to go into the en-suite bathroom telling me to stay still until he got back. He returned after a few minutes with a warm wash cloth, cleaning me and soothing me as I lazily laid there, blinking at him.
He lifted me up taking me into the bathroom, setting me on the floor as he turned the water in the tub off. I hadn’t even heart him turn it on to being with. He then helped me into the tub, telling me to scoot forward so he could join me. He took a clean washcloth and washed my body as I leaned against him. He asked me how I was feeling. And I replied I was feeling great. More than great.
I understood that he was worried about me, since it had been almost a year since we had sex, such roughly at that. Little did he know that I would never tire of him. Tire of this.
Even in his slight roughness, Zachariah would never be able to hurt me.
He was showing me how much he loved me with how he took care of me afterwards, knowing I was for once, worn out. It wasn’t often he wore me out like this, and I loved it. The aftercare was almost better than the sex part, and any sub would agree to that.
Being cherished and loved with such care was something I didn’t have growing up, so I basked in it every chance I got with my husband.
He helped me out of the tub, took a towel from the warming rack and dried every inch of my body lovingly. After he dried himself off, he lifted me again taking me back into the bedroom where he helped me back into bed.
“I love you, my wife,” he whispered as he laid down beside me, brushing stray hairs from my face.
“I love you too, my husband,” I mumbled sleepily through a yawn. I force myself to move, to lie mostly on top of him, my head on his shoulder, my leg flung over his and my hand on his chest. I was home.
